Cindy Kimbrell-Bacot is no stranger to autism. Not only does her now 12-year-old son, Nicholas, have the disorder, but she also used to work as an autism consultant, screening children for the condition. Still, Cindy, who has a social work degree, never expected to be running a school for children on the spectrum.

For six frustrating years she watched Nicholas bounce around the school system without receiving the services he needed. And because the closest school for students with autism was a six-hour drive away, many parents in her community faced an identical situation. Unwilling to waste any more time — time that her son could be using to gain skills — this Panama City Beach, FL, mom rallied community volunteers and raised about $10,000, mostly from family members, to open her own school. "I believe in 'Better to try and fail than not to try at all,'" says Cindy, 39.

But she didn't fail. In the fall of 2008, Bacot Academy in Lynn Haven, FL, opened its doors to 10 children with autism, including Nicholas. The students, ranging in age from 6 to 13, receive personalized educational programs based on the Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) treatment approach. The school already has a waiting list, and Cindy hopes to accommodate more students next year. "When you have a child who needs help," she says, "it drives you."

Deanna Ballard felt the joy drain from her home after her son, Zachary, was diagnosed with autism at the age of 2 1/2. "Zachary worked for hours with therapists, and my husband and I were exhausted from keeping a close watch on our son," says Deanna.

Zachary, now 6, couldn't even enjoy a TV show with his sister, Makenna, who is a year older than he is; the ones she watched overstimulated him and were hard for him to understand. "After five minutes, he'd zone out in the corner, banging two spoons together," says Deanna, 35. So the Granite Bay, CA, mom, who has a psychology degree, enlisted the help of a TV-producer friend in 2006 and created a DVD that her son could grasp — one with shorter sentences and more repetition than a typical kid's video. "It was a big moment when he saw the first DVD, on colors," she says. "Since his regression, he never really interacted with Makenna. During that video, he danced around with her."

The slice of normalcy Deanna gained from that DVD — from more laughter around the house to having a few minutes of relief to cook dinner or just turn her back — was something she wanted to give to others with special-needs kids. "My hope," she says, "is to improve the quality of life for children and their families, 25 minutes at a time."

When Holly Robinson Peete's son, Rodney, was diagnosed with autism in 1999 at age 3, she was stunned. "The pediatrician laid out everything our son would never do: He'd never say 'I love you' unprompted or have a spontaneous conversation," Holly recalls. "If I'd read a story at that time about a child with autism who'd done those things, that would have given me such hope."

In 2004, the actress took hope into her own hands when she and her family founded HollyRod4Kids — a new branch of her charitable foundation, HollyRod — to fund new autism treatments, such as hyperbaric oxygen therapy and nutritional therapy, for families in need. "Autism is often approached like just a brain disorder, but it's important to explore other therapies," says Holly, 44, who's often up late at night answering emails about the disorder from parents.

Holly's future plans include creating the HollyRod Miracle House, a center with tools families need to fight autism — from musical-theater therapies to a kitchen where parents and children can learn how to cook gluten-free, casein-free meals, which may improve symptoms in some kids. The center is slated to open in the Los Angeles area in 2010.

Holly loves seeing how her work and family have inspired others. "A woman came up to me with her 15-year-old son and said, 'I can't tell you how long I've waited for an autism advocate — for someone to share her story,'" she says. "But she's the one who worked two jobs to get her son the therapy he needs. She's the hero."

Three years ago, Mariame Boujlil learned that her son, Zachary, then 2, had autism. Mariame, who grew up in Morocco and later moved to Charlotte, NC, felt isolated, embarrassed, and lost. This grieving period was short-lived, though. "I realized that if I wasn't out there advocating for my child, no one else would be," says Mariame, 44.

She figured out the steps to get services for her son, but didn't stop there. Knowing that in many cultures the disorder is seen as taboo — parents may even call children with autism "possessed" — Mariame made it her mission to strip away the myths and educate immigrant families on what autism is and how to get a child help. She also wanted to help these parents see that they're not the only ones in their community dealing with the diagnosis.

So Mariame formed the Charlotte Autism Foundation to do just that. She organizes monthly meetings for parents and kids with guest speakers, offers a fun summer program for the children, and holds fund-raising events to keep her organization going. A former interpreter who speaks five languages, Mariame can break through the communication barriers immigrants often face; at times, she even tags along when families have their child evaluated by state agencies to determine the services they'll receive. "It helps when someone's there to explain the process in their own language," she explains.

Danielle Paskowitz loves seeing the expressions of family members onshore as they watch their child with autism get on a surfboard. She understands their feelings of excitement and relief, because she's been there. When her son Isaiah, now 17, was diagnosed with autism at the age of 3, he was overly sensitive to much of his environment — a bird chirping or the smell of a certain food often resulted in "sensory overload." In Isaiah's case, that meant he'd first become very quiet and anxious, and then his behavior would spiral out of control; he'd injure himself or lash out at whoever was closest.

At the time, Danielle and her husband, Izzy, a professional surfer, were running a surf camp and discovered that taking Isaiah into the water on a surfboard and paddling around with him had a calming effect on their son. "In the water, he was in a tranquil place," says Danielle, 41, of San Juan Capistrano, CA. Plus, these sessions seemed to trigger more language from their son. The couple knew this "therapy" was worth sharing.

In 1999, they began Surfers Healing, which hosts free daylong surf camps for children with autism on both U.S. coasts and in Mexico. This past summer, 3,500 kids rode the waves with professional surfers, who volunteered their time. "The kids feel accomplished and the families get a day to relax in an accepting environment," says Danielle. And she receives the joy of reading thank-you notes from parents who constantly write, "It was the best day of our lives."

Four years ago, Jenny McCarthy's son, Evan, was a curious and active 2-year-old. Then a mysterious string of seizures left him virtually unresponsive — he no longer smiled or even made eye contact. Jenny took her son to a neurologist and finally received a diagnosis: Evan had autism. "For the first year after that, I was in my own little space, trying to figure out our next steps," says Jenny, 36. "Then I came across Generation Rescue [an organization devoted to researching autism causes and treatments], which said autism was reversible. I was like, What? Why had no one told me that?"

Jenny tried experimental treatments, such as diet modification, and gradually Evan began to respond. She also became a board member of Generation Rescue, a spokeswoman for the organization Talk About Curing Autism (TACA), and a cofounder of Teach2Talk, a company that provides educational resources for children with autism and those who are speech-delayed.

Jenny's passionate views about the disorder have opened her up to criticism, especially as she's spoken out about childhood vaccinations, which some believe may play a role in the autism epidemic. "I believe in vaccines, 100 percent — but the vaccination schedule needs to be changed," she says. Jenny and her boyfriend, actor Jim Carrey, spread that message when they led a Green Our Vaccines march on Washington this past June. And she's determined to keep the spotlight on autism, most recently with the publication of her latest book, the best-selling Mother Warriors. "What parents need," she says, "is to hear a message of hope."

When Suzanne Wright's 2-year-old grandson, Christian, began forgetting his potty training and losing words, pediatricians said nothing was wrong. After Christian was finally diagnosed with autism in 2004 and Wright began learning more about the disorder, "I was horrified," she says. "Nobody knew how to handle it. Nobody was talking about it."

So in 2005, Suzanne and her husband, Bob, then chairman of NBC, cofounded Autism Speaks, a nonprofit organization dedicated to raising awareness of the disorder. Suzanne, 62, also shared her story with news pros at NBC, who were inspired to investigate and report on the problem. She lobbied Congress for support, culminating in the 2006 signing of the Combating Autism Act, which promises $920 million in federal funding for autism research and education over five years. Suzanne worked with the Ad Council to create a public awareness campaign. And in 2007, Autism Speaks raised $70 million and committed more than $30 million of that to scientists — making it the nation's top private funder of autism research.

Suzanne's most personal project, however, is helping families that are coping with the disorder. To that end, the Autism Speaks Website, autismspeaks.org, offers these families support tools and social networks; it also provides informative tool kits for schoolteachers and medical professionals.

Next up, Suzanne is taking her message even further. She was one of a group of women from around the globe who proposed a World Autism Awareness Day to the United Nations; the first one was held in April of this year. "This epidemic is truly global," Suzanne says. "We need to talk about it and find out what's taking a whole generation of children into darkness."

I can handle this, thought Areva Martin when she learned that her 2-year-old, Marty, had autism. After all, she'd handled lots of challenges as a Los Angeles attorney representing Fortune 500 companies. "But it took months just to work through the maze of resources and information," says Areva, 46. She saw the need for a support network in which parents could share experiences and learn to navigate the system together.

So in 2005, Areva created Special Needs Network (SNN). The organization helps empower poor families in Los Angeles who have a child with a developmental disability by bringing information and events into their communities. SNN also tackles cultural biases that persist in African-American and Latino communities. "Many of these individuals are ashamed about their children's disabilities, so they isolate themselves from mainstream organizations," says Areva. That's why she recruits role models whom members of these lower-income communities admire and trust (such as California congresswoman Diane Watson) to participate in the organization's events and share personal stories.

Since SNN's launch, the nonprofit has served nearly 10,000 families with events such as resource fairs (for information about available services) and parenting workshops (including one that covers managing a career while raising a disabled child). "The network gives these people hope," says Areva, "and it puts the needs of the underserved on the radar."

Helen Shafer's least favorite word is can't, especially when it comes to her 6-year-old, Hayden, who has autism. Before he turned 3, Helen began exploring options for him in the private and public school systems. What she learned was disheartening. "The expectations seemed so low," says Helen, 33, of Baltimore County, MD.

Hayden had to be given the chance to reach his potential, Helen decided. So she dipped into her private funds to start the Shafer Center and hired a board-certified behavior analyst to be the program director. The facility has an early-intervention program for children ages 18 months up to 7 years old who've been diagnosed with autism, and the curriculum helps them thrive in mainstream situations; they go on field trips and even put on a holiday musical. There's also a resource center for families with older kids. The facility opened in August 2006 and this past summer had its inaugural graduating class, which included Hayden.

When six-time Grammy Award-winner Toni Braxton first belted out "Un-Break My Heart" in 1996, she never imagined how much the painful lyric would resonate a decade later, when her then 2 1/2-year-old son, Diezel, started slipping away from her. "His speech regressed, he wouldn't make eye contact, and he often got hyper," says Toni. "As his mother, I knew something was off."

For two years Toni went from doctor to doctor to find out what was wrong with her boy, but his problems remained a mystery until she tried to enroll him in a mainstream school; the dean directed her to Child Find in Las Vegas, where Diezel was diagnosed with autism. "At first, I felt bewildered and defeated," says Toni, 41. "When Autism Speaks reached out to me to help my son, it was a lifesaver. And then I wanted to do something to help them too." In 2007, Toni became a spokesperson for the advocacy organization — and last year she performed in A Concert for Autism Speaks Featuring Bill Cosby, which raised money to examine the disorder's potential environmental causes and for research on treatments. "When other parents tell me that I've inspired them," says Toni, "and when I look at Diezel and see how much he's progressed, I feel so hopeful."